


12 Creeds of Xmas

by Hack_Generation, Pirateweasel



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Crack, Drabbles, M/M, Malik is so done, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, One Big Happy Family, One Shot Collection, Other, Twelve Days of Fic-mas, Violent people, what is this, wtf is a mistletoe? Altair xplain yurself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3021140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hack_Generation/pseuds/Hack_Generation, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirateweasel/pseuds/Pirateweasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the Assassins's with friends and family in this Drabble/One shot series ending with a Big Bang for the New Years party! </p><p>Rated M for Violence and (Malik's) Murderous Intent and Snark.</p><p>Expect some Kenway sass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mistletoe?

**Author's Note:**

> Altair likes Malik.
> 
> He wants to give the Da'i a kiss
> 
> Perhaps a simple plant will help with that....right?

_On the 1st Day of Xmas the Brotherhood gave to me..._

_One-armed angry Rafiq!_

 

 

* * *

 

"NOVICE!"

 

An empty inkwell shattered against the wall right where Altaïr's head had been.

Honestly, the Master Assassin couldn't see what he'd done wrong. Malik had been a bit irritated all day. He didn't know why and was certain that the Da'i was blaming him for it. Altaïr had been waiting to confess his feelings to Al-Sayf for months now. Every plan he'd come up with seemed flawed or useless. 

That was until he'd found a particular plant. An elderly merchant woman, who was sweet to Altaïr, had caught him looking at his one-armed friend with longing when they had gone to the market to stock up on supply for the Bureau. She'd motioned him to come closer after making sure Malik wasn't listening and told him to look for a green plant with white berries that would grow rootless in certain trees.

In retrospect maybe it would've been easier to just tell Malik how he felt.

 

"I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD!"

 

This time it wasn't small objects flung, but actual throwing knives. The Rafiq obviously hadn't slacked off in training with the accuracy he displayed. Malik's face was flushed red in a blush.

Altaïr leapt across the room, dashing madly for the grate attached to the roof; it was cold and snowing outside, but Malik wanted to kill him!

 

"I WILL RIP YOU APART NOVICE! WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? I WILL GLADLY LOSE THIS OTHER ARM TO SKIN YOU ALIVE AND USE YOUR HIDE AS MY PILLOW!"

 

Altaïr barely made it out the Bureau; but only after Malik had nailed him in the back of the head with a heavy book. He was glad he'd run away as well. He'd seen the Da'i draw his sword. Altaïr definitely didn't want to feel the bite of not only Malik's sarcasm but also his blade.

 

After the Master Assassin was gone Malik cleaned up; a blush still on his face. He found the plant that Altair had held hung over his desk. The man's eyes widened in realization.

 

"Altaïr you fool...mistletoe?" Setting it down into a small box as keepsake, he stared at it and touched his lips; remembering the unexpected...kiss. A small smile quirked his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Owari~


	2. Novice, What is a Mistletoe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik and Altaïr fluff  
> Some Alt/Mal for you
> 
> [Alternate to 1st Chap]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an alternate; it wouldn't leave me alone so I had to post.

_On the 1st Day of Xmas the Brotherhood gave to me..._

_One lovely Da'i_

* * *

 

"Novice, what are you holding over my head?"

Malik looked up from where he was laid against Altaïr. It had gotten too cold for missions outside and Templar activity was low anyway; especially with the snow falling heavily. It had also gotten chilly inside the Bureau. The two Assassins had decided to cuddle together in Malik's room on the bed made of pillows on the floor. 

The Da'i had his back against his lover's chest, with Altaïr's arms around his waist and Malik's head against the man's shoulder. Altaïr's legs were also splayed comfortably on either sides next to Malik's own. Both men were covered by the Rafiq's outer coat and other blankets while surrounded by pillows.

"A...traditional plant,  _habibi,"_ Altaïr only ever used the endearment when they were alone. It made Malik feel all warm inside. Lifting his head from where it lay against Altaïr's shoulder, he only caught a glimpse of the plant before he felt warm lips on his own.

The Da'i relaxed into the kiss; eventually the need to breathe making both Assassins break away. Malik rested back against Altaïr, eyes closed and lightly dozing. A chuckle made him open his eyes. He blinked when his vision focused on a plant dangling from Altaïr's fingers in front of him.

"Altaïr, that's what you held above me?" He sighed when another kiss was planted on his head.

"It's mistletoe, Malik." Altaïr said, offering no other explanation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow.  
> That went well.
> 
> Owari~


	3. Nothing Short of 2 Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having Desmond and William inside a car together isn't a good idea.
> 
> That is... until they pick up a hitchhiker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor Fem OC.  
> I think you'll like her.  
> Also mentions of the death of a Male OC.

_On the 2nd Day of Xmas the Brotherhood gave to me..._

_Two complaining Miles'?_

* * *

 

"Why am I riding with you?" Desmond asked his father, slouching in his seat with crossed arms. The elder Miles had been trying to talk him throughout the ride; Desmond only replying with short answers.  

"Because your friends thought it was a good idea for us to start bonding." William said with exasperation. His son wasn't even looking at him!

"Wow. I could've went with Rebecca, but you **insisted."**

William clenched his teeth. Desmond was impossible to talk to without getting a scathing golden-eyed glare (which he **knows** his son inherited from Altaïr somehow, it was honestly terrifying) or getting snarked at the moment he said something wrong (he's pretty sure Malik is rubbing off on Desmond).

"We have several more miles till we meet up with your...ancestors at the safe house." Desmond's father risked a glance at his only offspring.

Desmond merely snorted in response; still looking out the window and refusing any other interaction between them. Clearly that pun wasn't appreciated. William heaved a sigh.

"God, it's cold!" William shivered as he turned up the heater. The car was old; however, so it only warmed the air to an extent.

Desmond couldn't help but agree. "You think? I'm more suited for Syria's summer than a Canadian winter!" He was glad he had his signature white hoodie.

William was momentarily surprised at Desmond's agreement. Being careful not to push it, he responded with, "What was Yusuf thinking!?"

Desmond for some reason didn't mind. Maybe it was the cold, or the fact that travel made them both tired but at least they had found some common ground. "Yusuf Tazim? He's never seen snow before. Ezio thought it was a good idea to host the Christmas with the Canadian branch."

William hadn't considered that the Turkish man might want to see snow; but it was too late now. He noticed the snow, though, as they drove through it.

"It's snowing heavier."

"Great. Just what we needed! A fuck-ton of frozen water!" Desmond grumbled.

   Desmond shivered and tried to curl up against the doorframe of the car; hunching in on himself to stay warmer.

                    William shot a quick glance over at his son's mildly contorted frame. 

 

"You're wearing a hoodie that's zipped to the neck in a heated car. How can you possibly be colder than I am?"

"I just am," Desmond mumbled grumpily, tucking his chin into the neck of his hoodie.

"Seriously, with that hoodie over a long-sleeved shirt...I thought you would be sweating by now. At the very least, I expected you would be unzipping it." 

William's pronouncement was met with a sullen silence.

"You did put on a long-sleeved shirt like I told you to, right?"

Desmond squirmed in the seat as though trying to find a more comfortable position, but didn't reply.

"You didn't put on a long-sleeved shirt," William said with an exasperated sigh.  "Honestly, would it hurt you to just once--"

"Stop the car." 

"What?" 

"Dad, just stop the car. There's someone out there..."

* * *

 

 Desmond had noticed a woman walking down the road; apparently trying to flag down a car. 

"In this godforsaken weather? Who?"

William didn't want to slow down, much less stop, but he was forced to when Desmond took off his seatbelt and jumped out the car. "Desmond! Get back here!"

There was a gust of cold wind that slammed the door shut. The elder Miles peered through the windshield and watched his son take off his hoodie to wrap it around the large woman.

"You're going to catch a cold!" William shouted as--leaving the car running--he stepped out and rushed over to help the woman and his son. Desmond was shaking hard as he slipped into the passenger seat after helping the woman into the backseat.

Once he was back in his seat and fastening his seatbelt, William tried to ignore the tickling feeling building in the back of his throat as the snow he had inhaled began to melt. It was proving impossible to ignore, though.

William sneezed. 

A voice came from the backseat.

"Willy?"

William turned to look at the woman. Something about her seemed familiar.

An African American elderly woman, with greying hair pulled into a bun, wearing a patterned dress with a old, worn coat and holding a wide dish covered with tinfoil. Her body was large; pleasantly plump. Age lined her face and she had a commanding presence as she sat in the backseat. 

"Imagine that..." she said, a trace of humor in her voice. "Big Walter's lil' Willy; all grown up and with a lil' one of his own. Not that you're exactly little, either of you."

Desmond sniggered, trying not to laugh. His father shot the younger Miles a glare as he began to drive again. The look only made it harder for Desmond to ignore and he let out a small laugh.

"Do you know him?" Desmond asked their unexpected passenger.

"Course I do, child! What ya' think; I just say that fo' fun?" she huffed. Brightening, the old woman introduced herself. "I'm Ms.Bertha!" 

William's brows furrowed, obviously trying to think.

Desmond looked back and forth between them, trying to piece the situation together on his own as well.

Ms.Bertha frowned.

"What were you doing out here?" William asked, slowing down when a car in front of them slowed to navigate the snow.

Ms.Bertha looked at him with intense, dark eyes. 

"Well I was needin' a ride to that celebration that's up in Canada! But that young novice that was 'spose to pick me up never came! Just up an' nothin'!" She squinted at the two men, then said, "Ya' really don't remember Mentor Adamanth, do you?"

The name seemed to click when William gasped and did a double take at the rearview mirror. "M-Mentor Agatha?!"

"There ya' go! I remember you was a smart one for such a little thing! Thought ya' wasn't old enough for the Brotherhood!" She laughed.

Desmond was laughing hard as Ms.Bertha began recounting embarrassing things about his father; like how awkward he was as a teenager and his irrational fear of cats. Desmond lost it when she told him how William met Desmond's mother when they were still novices.

"Love at first sight! After he laid eyes on her I said, 'boy ya' look like somebody done gone and hit ya' with a fryin' pan!'" She continued talking with a fond look on her face, "William came runnin' to Big Walter in the rain! Didn't know what to do with himself, saying he was gonna marry yo' mama!"

"Mentor Agatha!" the older Miles said in what sounded like a complaint. Desmond's father looked horrified that she was telling  his son how he met his wife; he could just see the evil glint in Desmond's eyes.

William was red, trying to look smaller.

Desmond was smirking. This was just comedy gold! He couldn't wait for everyone's reactions to this woman.  He asked Ms.Bertha just to goad her and spite William.

"Big Walter was the Grandmaster Assasin?"

"Yes he was! And a good one too, the best in his day. You should've seen him; lots of folk be surprised how fast he could move! He was a big boned man; built like an ox and stubborn! When Walter wanted to move, you better keep up or get left behind!" Ms.Bertha gestured with her hands as she talked; animated and excited. "He loved football too!"

"Can't imagine what it must have looked like if he tackled my dad as a punishment!" Desmond grinned.

The grin dropped off his face when the elderly woman put her hands on her hips and fixed him with a stern look.

"Big Walter was **my** **husband**. _"_ Ms _._ Bertha then crossed her arms and glared at Desmond. "I'd never let **my** Walter Mathis Adamanth do that to his students. He was a gentle giant and you best remember that, boy."

"S-sorry." Desmond muttered and shrunk back. This old woman was scary _. Scaier in some ways than the folks at Abstergo._

William heaved a sigh. Leave it to his own flesh and blood to say something stupid.

The silence in the car was awful.

William figured he could say something to break the ice (pun not intended) so Desmond wouldn't make another mistake. Desmond beat him to it.

"Is Big Walter coming too?" 

The black woman in the backseat looked at both of them with solemn eyes. "Nah, honey. He ain't comin'."

William raised a brow, glancing back at her after he drove around a bend. He felt a bit disappointed, despite the embarrassment that he would be in for at the safe house he had hoped Mentor Adamanth would be there. The man had been a father to him when his own was killed; and Mentor Agatha had been a mother to him as well.

"I would've liked to see him. Why wasn't he out there with you? He was never one to leave somebody alone out in the cold."

Ms.Bertha said quietly, "When was the last time you saw Big Walter?" 

William thought about it. "That was when I was transferred right? Then I saw both of you again when I married Zeynib."

Desmond's eyes widened at the mention of his mother's first name. He remembered when Altaïr had said after looking at Assassin records that his mother had an Arabic name.

"Maybe he's busy, Dad," Desmond said, thoughtfully.

There was more silence until William asked directly, a hint of hurt on his face, "Why can't he make it?"

Ms.Bertha seemed to age more when she exhaled slowly, "Cancer took him, honey. He passed."

William paled, "When—? Why didn't they tell me? Why didn't he tell me he was sick?"

"He wanted you to remember him the way he was at yo' wedding," Ms. Bertha told him, her voice gentle. "He was always talking about how great his Willy boy was gonna be. Said you'd make a great Mentor." She took a shuddering breath, "Always an optimist Big Walter was; said better this than a Templar. He held on as long as he could. Waited to see all Desmond's baby pictures and that one visit when he was five. He passed away when Desmond was six."

The rest of the car ride was silent, the humming of the heater the only constant noise in the background.

* * *

 The trio in the old car finally arrived at the safe house in Canada. 

Everyone loved the dish Ms.Bertha had brought with her, and just as Desmond anticipated and William dreaded, she began to tell tales about when Desmond's father was growing up.

Ezio grinned ear to ear. Altaïr face palmed.

However, even Desmond didn't expect to Ms.Bertha to start showing pictures of his father as well.

That was the icing on the cake.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao William will never live this down.
> 
> In AC 3 Desmond's mother is confirmed to be alive, however there is no mention of her name, and since lots of fanfics I have read draw on his heritage from Altaïr and the fact that the only reason Ezio is related is that someone married into the Miles family with his bloodline I thought why not make Desmond's mother Syrian? Her name is supposed to mean desert flower (google translate and then searching the English spelling of the Arabic word for it) Here is an excerpt from Wikipedia for her name.
> 
> Zaineb (also spelled Zainab, Zaeneb, Zaynab, Zainub, Zeinab, Zeinabu, Zeinabou, Zeineb, Zenab, Zeynab, Zeyneb, Zeynep, Zejneb, Zejneba or Zeynib; Arabic: زينب, examples on Arabic pronunciations: [ˈzeːnæb, ˈziːnæb, ˈzajnab] is an Arabic female given name meaning "a father's precious jewel", "the one who glorifies a father". It is derived from the Arabic root words "zeenah" (meaning precious jewel, what glorifies someone, source of beauty) and "ab" (meaning father). It can also mean "fragrant flower". [1]
> 
>  
> 
> Owari~


	4. Kenway Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kenways have been inviting to a gathering at a new tavern in Boston.  
> Connor hates gatherings.  
> Edward loves rum.  
> Haytham is 100% done.
> 
> Slight Connor/Aveline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never invite all 3 Kenways to a party, it's a bad idea.

_On the 3 rd Day of Xmas the Brotherhood gave to me…_

_3 Kenways Bickering_

* * *

 

“For the last time Connor, quit fidgeting!” said an annoyed Haytham.

 

Connor refused to listen to his father, they were currently riding one horse together since his own ran off, the other steed beside them was occupied by his grandfather, Edward.

 

“I didn’t want to come with you in the first place! These clothes are irritating.” Connor replied stiffly. Apparently all 3 of the Kenways had been invited to some kind of gathering called a ‘party’ in town. Most of the people he knew from the Homestead were going as well.

 

“Aye! At least you’re not the one who’s going to look for the wine because that landlubber will hide it!” Edward grumbled as he steered his black mare around civilians, the town was lively tonight. Haytham’s horse tossed its head and snorted, clopping along the cobblestone street to the new Blue Moon tavern.

 

Snow was beginning to fall.

 

“Father! Charles is a sensible man for withholding the alcohol! We all know how you behave when you’re plastered. Thank heavens Connor is a lightweight, he doesn’t have to deal with that nonsense!” the Templar pinched the bridge of his nose, then exhaled heavily; the last thing anybody needed was his father getting drunk to the point of inability to recall his own name.

 

“Sensible or not the lad has a point. We can both hate him right Connor?” Haytham glowered at the grinning pirate.

 

“You’re taking his side just because you have the insufferable goal of getting drunk?” Edward’s son asked in exasperation.

 

“Lee is there? I won’t go to this gathering with him there!” Connor crossed his arms, staying on the horse whilst Haytham dismounted. The Assassin hated Charles’ guts. It was too late to turn back since they’d already arrived.

 

* * *

 

 

Edward had already tied his horse and went inside the tavern. Connor glared at Haytham, the British man merely gave him a dull look.

 

“Connor, dismount.”

 

“No.” Haytham’s son refused.

 

“Now, we’re already here don’t make it hard on yourself.”

 

“No.”

 

“Connor—“

 

“No, Father.”

 

Connor scowled from under his hood, hoping that the look alone would make Haytham leave him be.

 

“Con—“

 

“ _No_.”

 

“Just—“

 

“ ** _No._** ”

 

Haytham’s eye twitched at the short rejections.

 

Edward came back out to see why his son and grandson hadn’t come in. The assassin pirate chuckled at the sight of the two men arguing. He knew exactly what it would take for Connor to come in, since the assassin didn’t like crowded places and wasn’t much of a people person despite what the residents of the Homestead said.

 

“Aveline is inside, she’s wondering where you are.”

 

Connor looked at Edward, then uncrossed his arms and slid off his father’s steed. He didn’t like being in the area as Lee but the thought of Aveline alone and in the same place as that dreadful Templar was even worse.

 

Wordlessly he went in to find her. Edward smirked at Haytham who frowned. Both men entered Blue Moon tavern.

 

* * *

 

In the end Edward was absolutely smashed, Aveline kissed a flustered Connor under mistletoe, and Haytham gained a headache from watching the chaos unfold as Charles made a rather rude comment. To which Connor decided to go after Lee with malicious intent.

 

 

“Grandmaster Kenway, help me!”

 

Haytham sighed, walking out of the tavern to find his son and drag him away from killing his subordinate.

 

The Templar decided, Aveline De Grand’pre or not, they shouldn’t have come to this party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing verbal fights between Con and Hayth. They're glorious!
> 
> Owari~


	5. My True Love Sent To Me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much crack, I should be ashamed....

On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me....

A partridge in a pear tree.

 

“As little as I wish to admit it, novice, I need your help.”

It only took a few moments for Altair to reach Malik; hands busily freeing the other man's robes where they had become entangled in the smaller branches of the tree. That did not mean that it was easy for Altair to hide the grin that fought to show itself on his face, or the laughter that was threatening to bubble up from his chest when he found the Dai of the Jerusalem bureau trapped halfway up the aged pear tree in the bureau's courtyard. At the foot of the tree, a small basket spilled pears across the ground from a split in the side of the basket—a split caused by a fall from a height.

“And you decided to climb the tree with a basket because...?” Altair questioned, his golden eyes shining with mirth. “Surely not because you know I like pears?”

“Shut up, novice.”

 

~*~

 

On the second day of Christmas, my true love sent to me...

Two turtledoves.

 

“Why did you bring these creatures here, Altair? I have enough to do without you adding feathered livestock to the inventory of the bureau!” Malik was waving his arm at the 'feathered livestock' in question as he shouted at the white-robed assassin dropping through the gate. In the courtyard, a small wooden cage with a hutch-like nesting box and a few perches was taking up a previously empty corner; its occupants blinking at the two men while ruffling their feathers and sidling closer together at the unexpected noise.

“They're turtledoves, Malik,” Altair said, moving up to stand behind Malik. He wrapped his arms around Malik and rested his chin lightly on the one-armed man's shoulder before whispering in Malik's ear. “I am told that they are like us, faithful to their mates.”

In the cage in front of the men, one of the turtledoves pulled its head back far enough to deliver a painful peck to its mate for no apparent reason. The other turtledove squawked indignantly at this behavior and returned the favor of a hard peck before snuggling up to its mate again.

“Hmmm.” A dark eye turned back to look at Altair. “You might be right; they _do_ seem to be like us....”

 

 

~*~

 

(And now, for a touch of crack)

On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me...

Three french hens.

 

“Arno! Where the hell is that Frenchman, anyway? I thought you said he was going to meet us here?”

“He swore that he would be here at the appointed time...I did not expect him to be late.”

“At least in this area, no one will think anything odd about seeing us yelling for the missing member of our party...if any of them are sober enough to remember it later.”

“Well, this area of the docks have enough strangers getting on and off the riverboats that we don't stand out. And enough...ahem, entertainment available that waiting for someone is a common enough sight. Arno did well to choose it for the meeting.”

Both men looked up at the sound of a cheerfully loud greeting that was called out to them. The taller of them could feel his upper lip curling with frustration at the sight of Arno making his way towards them—but not alone. A giggling trio of females was accompanying him, taking turns drinking from the bottle that the woman leaning on Arno's left clutched in her hand.

“What—precisely—is the reason for your companions, Arno?”

“I met these beauties in the tavern. When I asked them what their plans were for the evening, they said they were going to have a 'hen party'. So, I invited them to join us—the roosters! Look, one french hen for each of us!”

“That's it,” the taller man muttered to his partner, “I will kill him for this....” He eyed the buxom brunette that was making her way closer to them. “...I'll kill him later.”

 

~*~

 

On the forth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me...

Four calling birds.

 

Ezio eyed his surroundings in distaste, the sharp smell of bird droppings biting at his nose. The dovecote was never his favorite place to visit; however, it was a necessity. Messengers could be bought, paid to deliver your letters to your enemies before bringing it to you. Pigeons, however...birds could not be corrupted by bribery. They knew their way home and that was all that mattered to the birds.

It was one of the best ways that Ezio knew to receive important notes.

Information for the Brotherhood, for example.

And if an occasional bird came to call with a ribbon from a friend who was known to be very...affectionate made its way to the dovecote—well, it was always possible that they might have information that the Brotherhood would find interesting. It would be remiss of Ezio not to visit them in order to make such a determination. And if it required him to be very affectionate as well...Ezio was willing to devote that energy to making certain those friends were eager to assist in any way they could.

On the perches in front of him, four birds gave trilling little calls, their legs brightly festooned with different coloured ribbons.

 

~*~

 

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

Five golden rings.

 

Edward Kenway gave a satisfied look at the gleam of gold in his palm before closing his hand and slipping the contents of it into his pocket. A few moments more and he was on deck, heading towards the gangway and the docks. Edward hailed his second in command, pausing before he left his ship in another's hands.

“Where be you headed, Captain?” Adewale asked, curious. He had delivered the order from the goldsmith to the Captain's cabin only a few minutes earlier. The captain had not mentioned plans to go ashore this day when they docked; all of the ship's business was to be dealt with tomorrow afternoon. It wasn't always best to transact all of their business during the bright light on day.

“I'm off to give a special lady a ring, Adewale.”

“You have five rings, captain,” the big man pointed out. “Hard to give a lady only one if you have five.”

“Ade, have you ever heard the seaman's toast to wives and sweethearts?”

“No, captain.”  
  
“Here's to wives and sweethearts...may they never meet.”

“Captain, I think you like danger too much, sometimes.”

 

~*~

 

On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me...

Six geese a-laying'.

 

“Evie! Get out here!” Jacob shouted.

It was almost Christmas and London had snow falling lightly over the town, as though a giant baker was sifting the smallest amount of powdered sugar onto it like a cake. Not that powdered sugar was this cold, mind you. It would also be less likely to ruin a perfectly good pair of boots than this snow. Jacob scowled at the carter. For his part, the man ignored him and went about the business of continuing to unload the last of the crates from the freight wagon.

“Delivery was already paid for, guvnor,” the man said, his Cockney accent broad and his voice a bit ingratiating as he added, “...not that I'd turn me nose up a tip....”

A moment of waiting and another glance at Jacob's face and the carter climbed back aboard his wagon and, with a small slap of the reins, pulled away.

“EVIE!”

“WHAT! You're shouting so loud the whole house heard you! What is it?!”

“That,” Jacob pointed at the first crate, “is for you. Apparently, all of them are for you.”

His sister looked at the crates and their contents for a moment before dissolving into laughter. “Oh, this is too much,” she said, trying to compose herself. “Well, put them in the stables or something. I don't care.”

“You don't—It's a bunch of bloody big birds, Evie! Six of them! And according to the note from your latest suitor, they are for you!”

In the crate closest to him, a goose stuck its head out and hissed evilly.

“Merry Christmas, Jacob,” Evie said, her face calm and her eyes twinkling.

The goose gave a loud honk and reached out to worry her brother's boots.

“Daft animal! Those are new boots!”

Evie found herself laughing as she walked back into the house.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to end it with the geese, as I kept imagining Jacob shooting to scare away the swans, yelling, "They're bloody big birds, Evie! Where exactly did you plan on keeping them, the drawing room!"

**Author's Note:**

> This was spur of the moment, I got more coming up.  
> Idk if this is good or not.
> 
> Owari~


End file.
